All in the Family
by Diamond Unicorn
Summary: A series of stories exploring the relationships between Ratchet, Wheeljack, and their creations; the Dinobots. Ch. 14: Haha, I made it!- Er, the Dinobots celebrate Father's Day with Wheeljack.
1. Mirror Effects

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will own the Transformers or any recognized characters therein.  
A/N: This story was inspired by my desire to see some interaction between Ratchet and the Dinobots. Despite being their co-creator, Wheeljack gets far more notice for building them and having a parental relationship with them. So I wrote something myself.

* * *

Ratchet glanced back at the battlefield. Turning back to Grimlock, his hands were a smooth line of motion over sparking parts and melted pieces. "How are you feeling Grimlock?" Ratchet inquired.

"Me Grimlock can fight. You Ratchet too fussy," the Dinobot groaned, trying to sit up.

Ratchet lightly smacked his creation over the head. "You stay as you are Grimlock, let me take care of things."

Grimlock settled back, grumbling lowly.

Several minutes passed undisturbed, Ratchet working as quickly as he could on his eldest creation. Grimlock suddenly tensed under him, growling. Ratchet could sense the energy field of another transformer near. Turning, he looked up into the blank red optic band of Soundwave, a gun pointed at his faceplate. Standing at the Decepticon's ankles was Ravage and a snickering Frenzy. Without thinking he sent out a silent SOS to the other four Dinobots and Wheeljack, hoping someone would reach them.

Ratchet shifted, blocking the vitals of his patient who was struggling to get up.

"MOVEMENT: INADVISABLE," the monotone of the Decepticon communications officer rung out. Ratchet didn't need to know what the threat entailed.

"Grimlock, stand down," Ratchet hissed, optics not straying from the gun.

Obviously he needed to install some obedience modifiers in the Dinobot as he could hear the further shift of Grimlock behind him. Soundwave's gaze shifted, gun swinging away from Ratchet.

Without thinking, the medic whirled around, crouching over Grimlock. Searing pain pierced through his shoulder and part of his torso. He slumped against Grimlock, the Dinobot just barely catching him. Ratchet turned his head watching Soundwave, hardly able to use his intakes from the searing pain.

He could vaguely hear the cackling of Frenzy. In the moments he'd blocked Soundwave's shot, Grimlock had drawn out his own gun, pointing it at the telepath's feet, at the Cassettes.

"You Soundwave leave, or it not you I Grimlock shoot," the Dinobot growled, blue optic band darkening in anger.

The silence stretched out, only interrupted by Ratchet's labored systems. Soundwave slowly lowered his weapon, sub-spacing it. "FRENZY, RAVAGE: RETURN," Soundwave said, chassis compartment opening. Ravage darted up, transforming and depositing into his creator. Frenzy leapt into Soundwave's outstretched hand, grumbling, but following after his brother.

Grimlock kept his aim trained on the two diminutive Decepticons, pointing at where the Cassettes were stored. Soundwave seemed to stall, debating whether to challenge the two injured Autobots. He may have stood a chance before the shrill cry of Swoop sounded from above. Soundwave quickly took off as Wheeljack and the other four Dinobots arrived.

"You two alright?" Wheeljack asked, helping Ratchet onto the ground beside Grimlock.

"Nothing we won't recover from," Ratchet grumbled. He turned to Grimlock, addressing him. "And next time I'm shutting your processor off, you ill tempered fragger."

"Me Grimlock say I get bad mood from you," Grimlock shot back, nature slightly lighter than Ratchet's.


	2. Enabeler

For Ratchet, this must be Hell, or the Pit, whatever. And to everyone who reviewed last chapter, thank you, I always appreciate hearing people liked reading my story.

* * *

Ratchet stared. He shuttered his optics, counting to ten. If Primus was a just and loving god, the sight he'd just seen would be false; a glitch in his processors. Because no deity in the universe would hate him enough to- fraggit.

There was Slag and Swoop at Wheeljack's lab desk, handling what was probably sensitive and volatile chemicals. Although maybe he was wrong. Wheeljack wouldn't be _that_ irresponsible to allow the Dinobots to play with dangerous substances in his lab.

"What are you two doing?" Ratchet asked, tone much calmer than he felt.

"Experimenting," Slag said, not looking up.

"Him Wheeljack say it good for us Dinobots' cerebral processor development," Swoop added.

Ratchet repressed the urge to shudder, giving himself a moment to calm down. "And what are you two 'experimenting' with?" Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought.

"We making thermite!" Swoop answered eagerly.

_I am going to kill him._

"I want you both to put down you project for now and… go do something else. I believe Jazz installed a new computer game in the rec. room," Ratchet said, still trying not to freak out. If he upset the Dinobots, it could very well mean doom to the entire ARK and half of the surrounding human settlements.

"But him Wheeljack say it alright for us Dinobots to play in lab," Slag protested, almost sounding petulant.

"Yes well I'm saying it's not, and soon Wheeljack will understand the same rationale and agree with me." He pointed at the room's open doorway. "Now both of you out and go do something less dangerous before I reformat you two into a hummingbird and an armadillo."

Reluctantly the pair left, Swoop sulking and Slag glaring moodily at his creator.

Ratchet locked up the lab and turned his attention on finding Wheeljack. Last he'd seen the engineer, he'd been getting his energon rations in the commissary. How fortunate that Wheeljack was just ready to leave the commissary for parts unknown as Ratchet arrived. The medic's smile turned predatory as he grabbed the engineer by one of the lights mounted on his helm, dragging the yelping mech off.

"What is wrong with you?" Wheeljack asked, irritated at the embarrassing treatment he'd received.

"_Why_? Why would you encourage them with destructive and dangerous behavior?" Ratchet asked, almost exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" Wheeljack questioned, confused.

"You letting Slag and Swoop make thermite in your lab. You could've at least watched them and make sure they don't set themselves on fire."

Wheeljack looked alarm. "I never gave them permission to be in my lab. I haven't even seen them today."

Ratchet's anger died. Then returned, only rerouted. "Those little fraggers," he growled, stalking off to the rec. room, Wheeljack quickly following after his partner. Someone had to make sure Ratchet didn't terminate the two younglings they'd brought to life.


	3. Celebrate Good Times, Come On

Sorry for the extended absence, I'm afraid I'm just a tad lazy. Thanks for the reviews last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one. By the way, I got the dates for when the Dinobots were built from the air dates of S.O.S. Dinobots and War of the Dinobots. I figured the air dates were as good a basis as anything.

* * *

Wheeljack and Ratchet cared for the Dinobots, they really did. Both wanted to see their titanic creations happy. But this was pushing it.

"Birthdays?" Ratchet asked, incredulous. "What in the Pit is a birthday? And why do you want a party for one?"

"Them humans have them for each year they alive, on the day they created," Swoop described. "Him Spike say they fun."

Ratchet and Wheeljack shared a look, silently debating how to proceed.

"Well guys, on Cybertron we don't celebrate birthdays. Actually, we don't have a whole lot of holidays like the humans," Wheeljack explained.

"But we not _on_ Cybertron," Grimlock replied. "We Dinobots built on Earth, I say we celebrate Earth holidays."

"_We're cursed, aren't we?"_ Ratchet said to Wheeljack over a private line in their communications.

"_They do make an interesting point,"_ Wheeljack responded.

"Do any of you even know when your 'birthdays' are?" Ratchet asked.

The five mechs looked between each other, shrugging helplessly.

"No," Grimlock said.

"_Aw, now you've made them sad,"_ Wheeljack teased.

"_Primus I hate you,"_ Ratchet grumbled. "Well first of all, you three," Ratchet swung a pointed finger to Grimlock, Slag, and Sludge. "Came online October twenty-seventh. Swoop and Snarl were completed and came online a month later on November twenty-forth. If you had the sense to check your chronometers, you'd see it's April. Your 'birthdays' aren't for over six months."

"Can us Dinobots have birthday parties then?" Swoop asked eagerly.

"_We're sure they're not human children, right?"_ Ratchet asked, trying to smother his exasperation.

"We'll see," Wheeljack placated. "I heard some of the off duty mechs were going to try playing some human sport called rugby. Why don't you guys go join them? I need to talk with Ratchet."

The five dinosaur transformers agreed leaving Wheeljack's lab and their two creators alone.

Wheeljack turned to Ratchet, head panels flickering pale pink in amusement.

"What?" Ratchet asked, crossing his arms and settling back on his heels self-consciously.

"You remember their birthdays. That's so cute," the engineer cooed playfully.

"I remember when we built them, it was a significant event," Ratchet defended, systems heating in embarrassment.

"You don't even remember when _we_ met," Wheeljack replied, still just barely containing his laughter.

"I didn't have a memory bank when we met, it's pretty justified."

"So, what're you getting them?"


	4. Small Favors

A lot more sombre than my other chapters. This takes place right after 'War of the Dinobots' to clear any possible confusion.

* * *

There was a tense silence in the med bay. Ratchet worked on fixing the damage to Swoop's wings as Wheeljack fixed Snarl's spinal plating. The three responsible for the damage to the newly constructed pair sat on the other side of the med bay.

"Are you Ratchet okay?" Grimlock asked tentatively.

"Of course," Ratchet answered, tone strained. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"You quiet."

Ratchet shrugged. "I have nothing to say."

Wheeljack glanced worriedly to his partner. The Dinobots may not be able to hear it, but he'd known Ratchet long enough to recognize how upset Ratchet was. Wheeljack had only ever seen Ratchet quiet when he was scared of something, or for someone.

Ratchet set down his tools. "Well, your wings are done Swoop. Now I don't want you flying for the next couple days. I'll check over your wings again in two days."

Swoop nodded, flexing his wings in experimentation before transforming to his bi-pedal mode.

"Are you done with Snarl, 'Jack?" Ratchet asked, turning to his partner.

"Yep. Good as new," Wheeljack said, stepping back and admiring his work. "Grimlock, why don't you show Snarl and Swoop to your quarters? Ratch' and I already built in two new berths for them."

Swoop and Snarl looked to Slag, Sludge and Grimlock wearily. "Oh, don't worry you two. They'll behave themselves now," Wheeljack said, remaining jovial to reassure the pair. "Won't you guys?"

The three older mechs nodded. "We won't attack them Swoop and Snarl again," Sludge said.

"If they don't attack us first," Slag grumbled.

"Well that's what you get for listening to Megatron," Wheeljack tried to ignore Ratchet's flinch. "Autobots coming after you. Now off with ya." Wheeljack shooed the five behemoths away and closing the med bay doors after them.

Ratchet had already started cleaning one of the berths, wiping it down with disinfectant. "Help me clean up, would you, 'Jack?" Ratchet asked, watching the berth surface with far too much intensity.

"Of course," Wheeljack replied, setting to work.

The pair worked in silence. Wheeljack constantly snuck glances at his friend, absently noting that Ratchet was going to scrub the orange paint off the berth if he didn't let up.

"Whatever it is, just ask Wheeljack," Ratchet growled, frame tensing.

"What are you upset about? The Dinobots are fine, Optimus is fine, and he's not even angry with them or us. As far as bad days go, this was pretty good."

Ratchet threw the cloth in his hands to the floor, turning blazing optics on Wheeljack. "They attacked the _Prime_ and nearly killed him. They almost defected to the Decepticons. How in the Pit did they get away with that? Mechs have been deactivated for less," Ratchet hissed.

"Well, they've only been online a month. And they didn't kill Optimus, because they _couldn't_. They're Autobots to their sparks and Optimus understands that."

Ratchet leaned against the berth he'd been cleaning. He rubbed at his shoulder, trying to relieve some of the tension. Wheeljack walked over, gently pushing the medic to sit down and replaced the hand with his own.

"You're scared for them, there's nothing shameful about that."

"They're forty foot younglings with fire breath and short tempers. How long until they do something else destructive? How many times until Optimus just gives up and tells me to deactivate them?"

It was Wheeljack's turn to flinch. "He'd never have you do that Ratchet. He knows how cruel that would be for you." Well, maybe not fully. None of the other ARK members seemed to understand their fondness for the Dinobots. Today's events certainly wouldn't help.

"I'm the chief medic on this ship, who else is there? You? You'd have just as many issues."

"It won't happen," Wheeljack said, trying to hide his own doubt. It was a terrifying prospect. The Dinobots being terminated was bad enough. The idea having to assist in that made his fuel pumps lurch in disgust.

"Primus, I pray not."


	5. Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

Suggested by Dragowolf. Not quite bath time, but hopefully close enough. Hope you all like it.

* * *

Ratchet looked with despair at his dirt-caked med bay floor and mud encrusted berths. Then he turned to glare at the trio responsible for the filthy area. Okay, so it wasn't entirely their fault, most of the Autobot army had come in covered in dirt from the latest Decepticon skirmish.

"Grimlock, you and your brothers go to the wash racks now and clean yourselves off," Ratchet ordered, setting to the tedious work ahead of him.

"Why?" Grimlock asked.

Ratchet twitched. Primus, weren't they a little mature for this sparkling behavior? And he would hear nothing of how they were only a few days old, they were technically adults in form if not experience.

"Because you're filthy. I've seen dirt piles cleaner than you three and if you're going to be walking around the ARK, you're going to be clean and giving everyone less work in keeping this place in order."

"Me Slag say too bad for them," Slag replied stubbornly.

_Oh, what fun._ Ratchet turned ever so slowly to give the three behemoths one very cold look. It was a look that none argued with, not even the higher ranking officers or the more fearsome warriors. And it had not failed him yet as the previously haughty stance of Grimlock, Sludge and Slag wilted slightly, the three looking a little uncertain.

"You will clean yourselves off because dirty frames lead to dirty insides, and dirty insides lead to failing systems, and failing systems lead to health problems that I have to fix, and that keeps us all off the battlefield not fighting the Decepticons. And then the Decepticons win the war and kill us all because you three wanted to stay filthy."

"_I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not laugh."_

"_Shut up Wheeljack!"_

The engineer was in a corner of the med bay, trying to smother any rebellious giggles and tuning up the medical equipment. Ratchet considered the pros and cons of having a private communication line with his partner. It seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

The three Dinobots were silent. Slag and Sludge turned to Grimlock, deferring the choice of rebelling against or submitting to Ratchet's authority to him.

"Fine, we Dinobots clean ourselves. But you Ratchet come help us," Grimlock said, crossing his arms over his chassis as he'd seen Ratchet do when conveying a 'don't question my demands' attitude.

Ratchet gaped and Wheeljack finally did laugh. "And what makes you three unable to do this by yourselves?" The medic slowly asked.

"We never do it before," Sludge answered, shrugging lightly.

"Better help 'em Ratch', don't want the Decepticons winning the war on dirt, do we?" Wheeljack cackled, nearly falling out of his chair as his intakes wheezed for air.

The look Ratchet turned and gave his friend could have peeled paint. "If you don't want that arc welder shoved up your tailpipe, you'll shut up Wheeljack," Ratchet said sweetly, the tone a significant contrast to his words and the ugly look on his faceplates.

Wheeljack wisely turned around, trying to smother his amusement once more. Ratchet turned to the Dinobots once more. "Fine, I'll help you three clean up, but only this once, then you're on you own, and you three better learn how to keep clean. Or at least clean up after yourselves."

Grimlock nodded eagerly. "We Dinobots will."

Ratchet cocked his head back to spot Wheeljack out of his peripheral vision. "Hey, glitch for a processor, you're helping me."

Wheeljack looked up, startled. "Huh? How'd I get dragged into this?"

"_Like you need to ask,"_ Ratchet sent silently. "I refuse to suffer alone. So set that thing down and come clean our creations with me."

Wheeljack's headlight panels flickered white in shock. Then they brightened a pale blue in an unmistakable grin. "Sure Ratch', someone's gotta keep you four in line," Wheeljack teased, setting down the arc welder and joining the medic in leading the Dinobots to the ARK's wash racks.

Fortunately for Ratchet's pride, the public wash racks were empty, otherwise they'd never hear the end of this.

"Wheeljack, would you show the Dinobots how to program the showers? I'll get some scrubbing brushes."

"Sure thing Ratch'."

Retrieving the brushes from one of the wash racks closets, used for helping the less dexterous Autobots to get inaccessible parts of their frames, Ratchet mused on the situation.

Before leaving Cybertron, he never would have, or could have fathomed being here. With the most dysfunctional family he'd seen since meeting those twin terrors, and really they had nothing on the Dinobots. At least there were only two of the pit spawn and they hadn't tried to destroy the ARK upon first coming online.

And now he was washing three mechs four times his weight like they were diminutive sparklings. Primus must be laughing at him; along with most of the ARK and even the Decepticons. Or the Decepticons would be laughing if the Dinobots hadn't single handedly handed them their skid plates several hours ago. Which made Ratchet want to laugh, actually.

Okay, so maybe things weren't as bad as he first thought.

"Ratchet, your grin is scaring the Dinobots, and me," Wheeljack whispered next to his audio, making the medic jump in surprise. "What's so funny?"

"Just wishing I had seen Megatron's faceplates after the Dinobots kicked them in," Ratchet lamented.

"Yeah, that was a nice site," Wheeljack chuckled, taking a brush from his partner. "Maybe if we ask Hound nicely, he'll replicate what happened with his holograms for us."

Ratchet grinned again at the suggestion. He turned to the Dinobots, handing each a brush. "Okay guys, firsts things first, we're getting off all the caked on dirt that seems to have bred on your frames. Wheeljack and I are helping you with that, because honestly the faster we finish this the less likely someone is going to come in here and see this, then laugh us out of the ARK."

"Can't we just squish them?" Grimlock asked.

"No, squishing the other Autobots is bad," Wheeljack replied. "You can only squish the Decepticons."

"_Fine lessons we're teaching them, aren't we?"_ Ratchet dryly asked. Wheeljack's panels again flickered in amusement, but did not reply.

"Now turn around, we'll get your backs, you can handle your fronts," Ratchet ordered.

When the visible dirt was gone, the Dinobots were prepared to leave.

"Not yet you three, we're not done," Wheeljack said, shaking a brush at their creations, nearly making Ratchet laugh at the ridiculous scene.

"But there no more dirt, we Dinobots clean," Sludge said, nearly whining, showing Wheeljack his dirtless arm as proof.

"Just because you look clean doesn't mean you are," Ratchet lectured, helping Wheeljack heard the three back under the showers. "Trust me, this'll only take a few minutes. Now under the shower heads are nozzles for the cleaning solution. It'll help clean you off."

"_This would be a lot easier if they were smaller, wouldn't it?"_ Wheeljack asked.

"_I envy Soundwave and his cassettes, at least those little demons are small and easier to subdue."_

"_You'd really want a Rumble instead of one of these three?"_

"… _I think I'd prefer more Dinobots to even one Rumble."_

"_Careful what you wish for."_

As the Dinobots reluctantly coated themselves in the foamy white cleaning solution, Slag couldn't help but look at the suds with distaste.

"Me Slag don't see how white foamy stuff makes us Dinobots clean."

"It washes off and takes the dirt with it. Stop questioning us and scrub," Ratchet ordered, grinning in amusement as he helped the larger mech get his near inaccessible back.

When they'd finished rinsing the cleaning solution off, the three Dinobots looked hopefully to their creators. "Yes we're done," Ratchet said, taking the brushes back.

"Now I can show you guys how the air drying mechanism works," Wheeljack said happily. Considering he'd been the one to build the thing into the wash racks, and most now took the convenience of not having to towel dry for granted, Ratchet could understand his partner's excitement at showing it off.

"Us Dinobots done now?" Grimlock asked once dry.

"Yes, off with you," Ratchet said, shooing the three Dinobots out of the wash racks. As they left his sight, Ratchet groaned. "And I still have to clean the med bay."

Wheeljack slung an arm around Ratchet's shoulders. "Well, you've got me to help."

"Good, thought I'd have to bribe or threaten you," Ratchet said, smirking.

"No need," Wheeljack chuckled, headlight panels flickering pink. "And when we're done with the med bay, I can help you clean yourself off."

Ratchet gave his partner a sidelong look of amusement. "You do realize the seductive act is unnecessary?"

Wheeljack shrugged. "Eh, you like it and we both know it."


	6. In the Dead of Night

It was an average morning in the ARK commissary. The large assortment of partially functioning mechs grumbling as they claimed their prized energon rations. It probably would have remained a lackluster day, if not for one little flaw.

"Fragging glitch!" Smokescreen shouted in surprise as he tripped over the ill placed tree trunk sized foot of Sludge. His energon cube's contents were a lost cause, spilt over the floor and on him.

"Me Sludge sorry," the Dinobot said sincerely, retracting his foot.

"Don't see why Optimus keeps a bunch of malfunctioning drones around here anyway," the Datsun grumbled.

Many gave the blue and red mech startled, and even appalled looks. "Smokescreen!" Mirage hissed. "How can you say such a vulgar thing?"

"I'm just saying, I can see why his name's Sludge, that's probably what his cerebral processors are working through."

Sludge wasn't smart, he could admit it. But even he could tell he was being insulted. He just didn't know with what. The embarrassed expressions some of the mechs present held only furthered that conclusion.

Sludge quickly downed his cube, leaving the commissary without a word or backwards glance. He didn't feel all too comfortable with the other Autobots anymore. Somehow, maybe instinctively, he ended up in the med bay.

Ratchet had turned away from his work to give the brontosaurus a curious look. "Do you need something, Sludge?"

"What mal-func-tion-ing drone, Ratchet?" Sludge asked, struggling over repeating the entire insult.

Ratchet's lip components pressed tightly together as he puzzled over the question . Where had Sludge learned that ugly insult? "Malfunctioning is something that either does not work well, or something that doesn't work at all," he explained carefully, watching Sludge for any signs of confusion. The Dinobot still seemed to be following him, so he continued, "A drone is a robot without a spark, or mind. It's just a tool built without any form of life to it. So a malfunctioning drone is a lifeless robot that doesn't work. Do you understand?"

Sludge thought over the words for a few moments, before slowly nodding. "Yes, me Sludge understand. I Sludge drone?"

Ratchet's expression turned horrified. "No! You're a living, sentient being. What in Primus' name would make you think you're a drone?" The medic scrambled frantically in his thoughts for where in his explanation Sludge could have gotten the idea he was a drone.

"Him Smokescreen say I mal-func-tion-ing drone."

Ratchet's optics narrowed. "Well Smokescreen's apparently malfunctioning himself if he's calling you that. You and your brothers were built to the best of Wheeljack and my abilities and work better than could be expected given the substandard materials and lack of reference we had to work with, and it's unquestionable you have sparks. Don't ever, _ever_ think you are unequal to anyone on this ship."

Sludge tilted his head, smiling slightly. "Me Sludge never think that. But me Sludge glad you Ratchet say it."

Ratchet gradually relaxed returning the youngling's smile. "That's always one worry I've never had, your brothers and your self-confidence. Now help me with these crates, too many of the things to lug around by myself."

--

The next morning Smokescreen awoke to find a web of thick colorful string tangled all around his room and even tied to parts of his frame. He realized several seconds too late as he sprang to his feet it was the exact _wrong_ thing to do as a sticky golden goop cascaded down on him. Flailing to get away from the stuff he tripped, fell, got even more tangled in the string and got covered in the sand spread across his floor, even getting the fragging stuff in his joints so they grounded as he stood back up.

Five minutes later and wading through two more booby traps he finally made it out of the war zone his quarters had become and headed for the wash racks. Unfortunately for him Wheeljack was running a maintenance check on the water pressure and insisted _come back in another hour and I sear I'll be done._

Three hours after that and sulking in the common room in that time he finally was allowed in the wash racks for an unpleasantly cold shower because apparently Wheeljack forgot to turn on the water heater.

Red Alert could find no suspicious activities on the ARK's cameras from last night and despite investigation into the matter, no evidence could be found for the culprit or culprits. Although many noted Wheeljack's smug tone throughout the entire ordeal and the eerily lofty smile Ratchet had the rest of the day.


	7. Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News

I should really stop writing at one in the morning. Even though that's when my muses come out to play. And yes, I just had to jump on the Medic!Swoop bandwagon. Kudos to anyone who recognizes Swoop's snazzy new weapon.

* * *

Ratchet cursed as he tried to fix Sideswipe as swiftly as possible. Beside the unconscious red warrior was his brother and Prowl. Stupid, idiot twins and their Jet Judo, and crashing into _another_ Autobot.

The roar of engines and clangs of a transformation behind him made Ratchet curse his existence. He whirled around, standing up and pointing his laser rifle at- Starscream.

_Well, that's just fragging great._

The seeker had both null rays aimed at his chassis; well that was lovely. Even if he shot Starscream, the seeker could just as well shoot him and probably shut down his internal systems long enough to cause full out spark failure.

"You feeling lucky, Autobot?" Starscream sneered, grinning wickedly.

_Hmm, didn't think Decepticons watched human television._ Ratchet thought absently. Or maybe it was just a coincidence.

There was a shrill cry from above and the heavy thump of something much bigger than either of them. Starscream froze, grin falling, dreading to look behind him. Ratchet's own lips curled in smile that could have struck terror into the spark of Megatron himself. "Hello, Swoop."

"Me Swoop hope you Starscream made peace with him Primus," the Dinobot hissed, retrieving a gun from subspace- no, what in the Pit? Was that a _flail_? An energy flail no less! Where the frell did- Wheeljack. It had to be Wheeljack.

_Primus, please let him know how to competently use that damn thing._

One look at the nice new weapon and Starscream hightailed it out of their vicinity. Swoop looked ready to take chase after the seeker, then looked back at his creator.

"Not going to give chase?" Ratchet asked curiously. Swoop gave him a blank look and shrugged.

"Me Swoop rather keep you Ratchet safe."

Ratchet groaned. Just what he needed, a multi-ton babysitter. That he had built no less! Ratchet whirled around, kneeling and resuming work on Sideswipe.

"I don't need a bodyguard Swoop, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Swoop slowly walked over and sat down beside Ratchet, massive frame shadowing his creator. "Even if true, me Swoop not care."

Did they all inherit his stubbornness? Why couldn't they be more laid back like Wheeljack? Then again, the easy going, teasing did sound much like the Dinobots' co-creator. Figures Swoop would be just as headstrong as Ratchet, but charmingly smug as Wheeljack. Really, how did you say no to that? Ratchet had always had trouble. It's what had gotten him into this Dinobot mess in the first place. Ratchet still didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"What you Ratchet doing?"

"Fixing Sideswipe," Ratchet answered.

"I know that. What you doing?"

Ratchet had always been a pro-multi-tasker, so as he fixed Sideswipe, he explained everything he could to the inquisitive youngling. Swoop asked, Ratchet answered, and the Dinobot mostly understood what he was told. Ratchet often had to delve into further explanation, but it was… refreshing having someone so genuinely interested in what he had to teach. It didn't hurt that far fewer Decepticons wanted to tangle with a distracted medic when his bodyguard was a forty foot, metal dinosaur with fire breath and a new energy flail that he was more than happy to use.

--

In the med bay, a few wounded mechs were gathered on the berths. Most of the injured from the last battle had already been discharged to their quarters. Sunstreaker and Prowl, however, Ratchet had deemed too injured to be left unsupervised. Sideswipe was keeping his twin company for the moment and Optimus was the last mech being treated by Ratchet.

Ratchet looked up from his work on Optimus as Swoop shuffled- yes shuffled into the med bay.

"Is anything wrong Swoop?" Ratchet asked. He knew Swoop wasn't hurt, although after today's events, a sneaking suspicion entered his processors.

"Me Swoop wanted to ask you Ratchet something," the primary colored mech said, seeming a little embarrassed. "I come back when you not busy though."

"I'm never too busy to listen to you Swoop, I'm just performing minor repairs on Optimus."

Swoop looked uncertainly to the room's other occupants.

Ratchet waved a hand dismissively. "Ignore them, they don't matter."

Sideswipe snorted, trying not to laugh.

"Thank you, Ratchet. You certainly know how to boost a mech's self-esteem," OPtimus said.

"If you want me to be as sensitive as a therapist, you'd better pay me like a therapist," Ratchet replied.

"Ratchet?" Swoop asked again.

The medic looked back up to his youngest creation. "Forgive me, Swoop. What did you want to ask me?"

Swoop looked to the floor, wringing his hands slightly. "Me Swoop wondered if you Ratchet want help in med bay."

"Help?" Ratchet asked, shuttering his optics momentarily in question. Then he got it. He couldn't help but smile. "Help in the med bay, or help as a medic?" Swoop was soon going to learn that being vague got you nothing.

"A medic," Swoop conceded. "It look interesting. Me Swoop want to fix other bots like you and him Wheeljack."

Ratchet nodded, looking to the other Autobots like he was thinking on the request. Honestly, he'd decided before Swoop had walked through that door. "Sure, be here tomorrow morning, six hundred hours, sharp."

Swoop's hesitance melted away, the youngling returning to the bright and proud 'bot he was. "Me Swoop be here. Thank you Ratchet," Swoop said sincerely before hurriedly leaving, probably to tell his brothers the news. Nothing ever seemed kept between the five for long.

The four other mechs present stared at Ratchet as he resumed work on Optimus.

"Did I just hear right, Ratchet the Hatchet just take one of the Dinobots under his wing?" Sideswipe asked.

Sunstreaker snorted. "Funny you should say that considering Swoop's the one with the wings."

"Go figure why he'd pick a Dinobot of all mechs to be a medic"

"I'm right here," Ratchet growled, tensed.

"Well come on, Ratch', s'kinda funny," Sideswipe said lightly. "Out of anyone you could train, you choose a Dinobot and their not exactly-"

"What?" Ratchet asked, glowering, making the lamborghini want to cower. "Smart? Obedient? Team players?"

"Although that is all true," Prowl finally spoke up. "I'm not sure it's wise to spend your time training Swoop to be a medic when you could have more capable mechs. Not to mention you already have Wheeljack to help you."

"It's not about extra help. I think this would be good for him, and I'm not turning down someone who wants to be my student," Ratchet said.

"I'd hate to have to list all the young medics you've turned down as an apprentice, Ratchet," Optimus said, amusement in his voice. Well, at least he wasn't as weary of the idea as Prowl.

"Oh please, they were all inappropriate as my apprentice," Ratchet shot back, waving a dismissive hand. "They were all in at least one of three groups. Too dim, too uncreative, or they could only think of the glory of being associated with my title and one day having it. Swoop may not be as bright as most 'bots, but he's a fragging lot more inquisitive than those little glitching processor nitwits."

"I wouldn't dream of questioning your motives Ratchet," Optimus replied, still seeming to be amused.

Ratchet nodded, satisfied. "Good, I wasn't going to seek you approval anyways."


	8. Who's Your Mommy?

A plot bunny I saw on Livejournal and just _had_ to pick up for Mother's day. I'd also like to thank akisawana for listening, inspiring, and contributing to the ideas in this chapter. The image of Mama Bear Ratchet will forever remain in my memory. You're awesome Aki!

* * *

Mirage had seen many unusual things in his life. Passing by the open door to the Dinobot's room and seeing some of the colossal mechs in a 'scuffle' was not one of them. Hearing the subject matter of their disagreement on the other hand was .

"I Slag say him Wheeljack more like mother," Slag growled, struggling to escape a headlock from his larger brother, Grimlock.

"You Slag rusty bolt bucket, I Grimlock think him Ratchet act more like mother to us Dinobots," the tyrannosaurus transformer rumbled back, keeping his hold.

Despite the Dinobots' wild natures, the five were unquestionably fond of and loyal to each other and their creators. No one else would they listen to so obediently. Besides perhaps Optimus, but it took the Autobot leader far more effort to persuade the small clan.

"What are you five arguing about?" Mirage spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the loud bangs and crashes of two giant beings of metal wrestling. His curiosity got the best of him again, he had to know why the Dinobots were calling Wheeljack and Ratchet their mothers.

"We Dinobots having discussion," Swoop answered, turning to Mirage and ignoring his brawling brothers.

"About whether your mother is Wheeljack or Ratchet?" Mirage asked.

"No, who acts more like Dinobot mother," Grimlock replied, finally flipping Slag on his back onto the ground. The miniature earthquake nearly made Mirage's knees knock together.

"Ah," Mirage said, trying not to smile in amusement. Well at least there was a distinction.

"You do know 'mother' and 'father' are human concepts, correct?" Mirage asked. The blue and white spy received five blank stares. Looks like a further explanation was in order.

"In the humans society, their mothers are their female parents, and their fathers are their male parents. Like Sparkplug is Spike's father. Although we don't have… gender identities quite like the humans, Ratchet and Wheeljack would still more closely be considered males. So, they're both more like your fathers." He didn't want to dampen their enthusiasm in calling the two mechs their parents, it was rather endearing really. Besides, Cybertronians did used to produce offspring and act as parents, at least before the war and both sides needed warriors and not be tied down with helpless sparklings.

Mirage wasn't even surprised by Wheeljack and Ratchet's parental fondness for the Dinobots. Before the war, the two had been a young bonded couple focusing on their careers before starting a family. And both had been looking forward to the day they could raise their own offspring in peace. Now that day seemed far and unobtainable as many of Cybertron's dreams were.

"We Dinobots know all that," Grimlock said, exasperated. "Him Spike tell us about them humans Mother and Father's Days."

"They special days to thank creators for raising them creations," Swoop explained. "We Dinobots want to thank creators, but thank them on separate days. So we deciding who acts like which human parent." Swoop sounded almost embarrassed as he went on, the other Dinobots' body language mirroring him.

Mirage smiled reassuringly at the five. "Well, I'm sure Ratchet and Wheeljack would appreciate whatever you have planned for them. And if you insist celebrating Mother's and Father's Day with them, I would suggest Mother's day for Ratchet."

Primus help Mirage if Ratchet ever found out about this, because then he'd be a terminated mech.

"Why you Mirage say that?" Swoop asked curiously. Behind the youngest Dinobot, Slag had crossed his arms, clearly disagreeing with the suggestion.

"Do any of you know what bears are?" Mirage was outright grinning now, and honestly he couldn't help it. The situation was rather funny. And by Primus, he was going to enjoy his last few days of life, thank you very much. Because again, when Ratchet found out about this conversation, he was no longer going to be alive.

All nodded, patiently waiting for the spy to continue his road of thought.

"Well, adult bears are fierce creatures and the humans fear and respect them. However, the mother bears are also gentle and nurturing to their offspring." Sometimes it really did pay off to listen to Hound talk about Earth life.

Swoop smiled, optics glittering with understanding. "Like him Ratchet."

Mirage matched the expression. "Yes, just like Ratchet."

More than the five younglings probably even understood actually. Ratchet had been working on sparklings and younglings long before his war career. And even if the CMO could be coarse with most of the Autobot army, the younger generation did not fall under such an attitude.

Early in the war when Mirage had just barely graduated from youngling status himself, he had reunited with his old, genial doctor from his sparkling days. And he'd never seen Ratchet act quite so feral than when the medic had protected Mirage and an equally injured Bluestreak from a Decepticon warrior with nothing more than a laser scalpel and _won_.

"I'd also recommend scheduling days off for all of you and Ratchet and Wheeljack with Optimus and Prowl for those days."

Swoop nodded. "Thank you Mirage."

"Not a problem. Although I would appreciate that you don't tell Ratchet or Wheeljack about my helping you," Mirage said, tone still light.

Snarl grunted, "'Course not. We Dinobots doing all the hard planning."


	9. History 101

Not sure where this came from... And thanks to all of my reviewers, you guys are awesome. Just thought I'd say that since I've been lack in thanking you all.

* * *

The ARK med bay was a mess of activity as everyone with _any_ medical training were gathered up to fix the casualties of the last Decepticon battle. And unfortunately, there were too many who were severely injured and not enough mechs to fix them. The situation wasn't exactly helped that one of the worst off was none other than the Autobot CMO.

First Aid's own spark nearly failed him as Ratchet's energy field dropped below his readings before just barely jumping back up to existence again. The clatter of dropped tools told the young medic Wheeljack had felt it as well.

As if working on your mentor wasn't terrifying enough, having his mate and one of their creations working only feet away from you just made it more nerve-wracking.

Under his hands Ratchet's energy flickered again, this time not returning. Wheeljack was beside him in moments, dragging an energy stabilizer with him. "Open his chassis, I need to get to his laser core," the engineer barked, as he prepared the energy stabilizer.

First Aid quickly complied, finding the catches to Ratchet's chassis and opening to reveal the senior medic's chest cavity. Where the blue light of a spark should have been was only the smallest pinprick of light.

There was a hum of energy and First Aid had to jump back to avoid being electrocuted. Wheeljack placed the two thin metal prods on Ratchet's laser core, electricity jumping and crackling between the two. Wheeljack pulled the prods away, waiting for a change. There was the smallest of flickers but nothing else.

"C'mon Ratch', c'mon. You're tougher than this…" the engineer mumbled softly before applying the prods again. Another arc of white bolts of electricity. Another flicker like a dying candle flame as both watched with stalled intakes.

Then the light slowly grew until it was near normal.

The pair relaxed marginally as Wheeljack set aside the energy stabilizer. "He's not out of danger yet, First Aid," Wheeljack said, voice far more stable than how he probably felt at the moment.

Hours later after the chaos had died down, Hoist; made active CMO until Ratchet was awake and functional again, had kicked Wheeljack out of the med bay's recovery room. Well, it wasn't so much that Hoist had kicked out Wheeljack as he couldn't allow all of the Dinobots and the engineer in the recovery room when it was already full of injured mechs. So instead Wheeljack was going to spend a few hours with his creations in their quarters; to reassure them was his excuse, before returning to Ratchet.

"Him Ratchet going to be okay?" Snarl asked.

The five young mechs were in their dinosaur modes, curled up together with Wheeljack reclining against Grimlock. The need for physical contact was usually a trait only seen in gestault teams, sometimes even twins. Even then, they typically didn't also seek the presence of a creator as well. Although given the circumstances and the close call they'd had with Ratchet, Wheeljack wasn't surprised.

"He'll be fine and fuming up a storm in a week at the most," Wheeljack answered, trying to lighten the situation.

"Him Swoop said he lose feeling of him Ratchet's spark," Grimlock replied.

"Well, it wasn't all gone. And, I mean, it was close. But we brought him back. Ratchet will recover fine now. You guys just have to give him a few days," Wheeljack said, trying not to think about the spark searing emptiness of nearly losing the other half to himself.

Sludge gently nudged at Wheeljack, rumbling softly, "You Wheeljack not seem fine. You seem scared."

Wheeljack's headlight panels flickered a pale greenish yellow as he relived when they'd nearly lost Ratchet's spark. "P-perhaps it was close. Far too close. For a moment there, I actually-" Wheeljack's vocalizers cracked in fear. "It felt like he was gone. And Primus it was terrifying."

Behind his mask, Wheeljack smiled weakly. "It's scary to think of life without him. It's always been the two of us, since the beginning of our days."

Swoop chirped curiously, leaning closer to his creator from his perch on Slag's armor frill. "You Wheeljack and him Ratchet built together like us Dinobots?"

Wheeljack shook his head. "We weren't built together, but we were built around the same time. I was only a meta-cycle older than Ratchet when he was built."

"What meta-cycle?" Slag asked.

"Thirteen earth months." Wheeljack answered.

"You our age?" Sludge questioned with a quirk of his head.

"Kinda, but a lot less developed. Ya'see back when me and Ratchet were built, there wasn't a war. And our species were producing sparklings instead of mechs like you guys. It was more efficient for society to raise a good mech over time than make 'em full grown and program them to be adults. Sparklings are all rather small and get upgraded to adults like us over a long period of time.

"Now, we just build adults. And sometimes we build mechs that aren't… exactly fully functional in normal society."

"Like us," Grimlock grumbled sourly.

"It's not your guys' fault," Wheeljack soothed. "Besides, sometimes even when you do raise a mech from the beginning, you can still end up with one screwed up 'bot."

"But you Wheeljack say raising sparkling best way to make good mech," Snarl pointed out.

"Not if that sparkling starts out with a bad creator in the first place," Wheeljack replied bitterly.

"You know sparkling with bad creator?" Swoop asked timidly.

"Yeah… Real piece of work that creator. Have to wonder about the 'bot who tells his youngling, who hasn't even had the speech impediment purged from his language program, to grow up and behave. Or thinks socializing his sparkling is a waste of time and tries to convince him that he doesn't need friends. Or lectures his own youngling for caring about someone else," Wheeljack said the last sentence softly, almost not paying attention to his creations still avidly listening.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Interesting how different a mech can turn out if he's stubborn enough." Behind his mask, Wheeljack smiled ruefully. "Especially when they've got one slaggin' good friend with great creators."

Grimlock growled at the thought and implications of who the sparkling could have been. "Him sound like mech I Grimlock like to beat."

Wheeljack chuckled. "Too late for that Grimlock. That mech's long gone. Good thing too, Dugout had way too much of an influence on his creation even after everything he did."

"Us Dinobots know this mech?" Swoop asked.

Wheeljack glanced between the five. Well it wasn't like they'd go blabbing things to the other ARK inhabitants.

"Pretty well. Let's just say Ratchet went in a very different direction of his creator, and all agree it was for the better."


	10. Revelations

I know this is incredibly short, and I apologize. But on the bright side, this is part one of a three part story line and the next two parts _are_ written. And I'll have the next chapter posted tomorrow.

* * *

Laser fire flew above him, Ratchet kneeling and bent low over Slag's badly injured frame. He wanted to get the Dinobot to somewhere safer than practically in the heart of battle, but it was near impossible. He wasn't capable of transporting Slag's much larger frame, and anyone else capable, namely the other Dinobots, were busy fighting the Decepticons.

Although honestly, he wasn't sure Slag was in well enough condition to be transported. He'd lost so much mech fluid already…

For now Ratchet would have to make do with the twins keeping up cover fire as he worked.

"How's it going, Ratch?" Sideswipe asked, crouched close in front of the medic.

"Not as well as I'd like," Ratchet answered, scowling. It was a race against time, the damage was so severe. Slag was already missing his lower legs and half of his left arm. Ratchet had sealed off the bleeding so death by lack of mech fluid was no longer a worry. Now he just had to take care of-

"Ratchet, down!" Sideswipe shouted frantically, bodily tackling the medic to the ground. The sound of a concussive explosion ripped through the air.

"Eat heat, slag suckers!" Sunstreaker crowed from behind Sideswipe as he retaliated. Sideswipe scrambled away from Ratchet, joining his brother with his own jovial cackles and taunts.

Ratchet returned to Slag's side, fuel pumps stalling as he ran his scanners to check for damage. He scrambled frantically to repair the harm caused by the explosion, which was every repair he had made just a few minutes ago.

Even as he tried to stem the bleeding of mech fluid, tried to keep the broken fuel tank from pumping out the flammable gases that gave Slag his flamethrower abilities, and tried to keep barely functioning intakes from stalling too long and cause dangerous levels of over heating to Slag's systems; Ratchet knew it was a lost cause. There was just too much damage and not enough time.

Slag was facing certain termination if no other solution could be found. Ratchet glanced to Slag's broad chassis, to where he knew the Dinobot held his spark. One solution, but Ratchet knew if he took it, the consequences could be dire for both he and Wheeljack, and even the other Dinobots. His decision was easy, however. A living Dinobot was worth whatever else they might suffer.

He pulled out a USB memory storage unit and spark energy transfer cable from subspace. Hooking in the storage unit, he had it save all the memories in Slag's CPU. Once it was finished, he pulled it out and quickly connected the two way transfer cable to Slag, and then himself.

Ratchet suppressed the discomfort of spark energy traveling through the cable and invading his systems, slowly reforming into Slag's full spark. He felt the spark of his creation settle in beside his own.

"Ratchet, what in the Pit did you do?" Sunstreaker asked in disbelief as the color in Slag's frame faded with the vacancy of the triceratops' spark.

"Saved what's mine," Ratchet said quietly, trying to not think what consequences his actions would reap.

* * *

Let's just say, Ratchet shouldn't have been able to do that with Slag's spark under the knowledge currently held by the other Autobots. You'll probably figure out why, tomorrow.


	11. Revelations 2

Yeah... I couldn't wait a day, so I'm posting this a few hours early. I was originally planning to put it up at midnight. Besides, I felt guilty giving you guys like five hundred words last chapter.

* * *

Ratchet and Wheeljack worked on the empty frame in silence, not even able to look at one another. It was unnerving reconstructing the colorless, dead frame of one of their creations, even with the knowledge that Ratchet carried Slag's spark. That was the least of their problems, however.

"I'm sorry this happened, Wheeljack," Ratchet said, quiet, subdued, _guilty._

Wheeljack always hated that tone. Ratchet acting meek always reminded him of times in their past he'd just as soon scour from his memory banks; if it hadn't been necessary to know.

"Sorry for saving Slag, or sorry that you didn't posses the powers of Primus to prevent this?" Wheeljack replied. "Because this isn't your fault Ratchet, and you know it. You saved Slag, and that's what matters. Everything else… we can deal with it."

"I keep on running through my head all of the options, to see what else I could have done to protect him, that it wouldn't have come to this."

"You come up with anything?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Thought so."

Ratchet heaved a long sigh, staring with despondent optics at the lifeless frame. "Well if they weren't suspicious before, they will be now."

"They were always suspicious, Ratch'. They were just too polite to ask about it."

"Optimus isn't going to be happy about us lying to him."

"Ah, he likes us too much to be angry with us."

Ratchet whirled on Wheeljack, ire rising. "This is serious Wheeljack! Our reputations are on the line. As well, we have to worry for the Dinobots' well being, an issue like this could ruin everyone's perception of them."

"You mean the perception of them being bumbling malfunctions?" Wheeljack asked bitterly. "Oh, maybe you mean how everyone thinks they're just a horde of destructive, violent savages better off being launched into the deep recesses of space than in the Autobot army." Sarcasm dripped from the engineer's voice, and Ratchet could feel the resentment and anger Wheeljack had for their friends' harsh comments about the Dinobots.

Guilt flooded Ratchet's own spark. He turned away from his partner, continuing work on Slag's empty frame.

"Ratchet?" Wheeljack asked, concern overriding his previous negatives feelings. "What's wrong, Ratch?"

"It's my fault they're like this. I-"

Wheeljack's hands shot out, wrapping around Ratchet's as he gently forced the medic to face him. "Stop blaming yourself Ratchet. We did nothing wrong, _especially_ you. Yes, we have five dysfunctional mechs, but I wouldn't trade 'em for anything, an' neither would you. We did the best with what we had," Wheeljack said, desperately hoping to get through to Ratchet.

The med bay doors slid open, Optimus walking in. The pair parted, standing at attention to their commander.

"Ratchet, Wheeljack," Optimus greeted, tone cool, collected, none of it's usual warmth. "How is Slag's rebuild coming along?"

"Better," Wheeljack slowly answered. "With Ratchet holding his spark and his memories downloaded to prevent their loss, we can work on his frame without worry. It's almost nearing completion and then we can reintroduce his spark."

Optimus nodded. "Good. Then I suppose it won't be a problem if I spoke alone with you while Ratchet continues fixing Slag."

Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanged silent looks.

Wheeljack reluctantly stepped away from Ratchet, walking over to Optimus. "Sure thing, sir."

In Optimus' office, Wheeljack sat in the chair opposite the Autobot leader's desk. At the desk sat Optimus and beside Optimus stood Prowl. Wheeljack cast a distrustful look to the Datsun. Prowl had never gotten along with Ratchet, always annoyed by his disregard for the rules and insubordination. But at least it wasn't in Prowl's character to be biased against Ratchet.

"Care to explain how Ratchet can carry Slag's spark Wheeljack?" Optimus asked mildly. "Because, to my knowledge, it's not something capable by anyone, medic or otherwise."

Wheeljack sunk lower in his seat, casting a worried look from one superior to the other. He could either try to lie, and be seen through like glass. Or he could tell the truth and take it like a mech, and maybe even deflect the consequences away from Ratchet.

"Well, ya see Optimus, the Dinobots are kinda… well sort of… ours. Mine and Ratchet's." And cue nervous babble Wheeljack. "Before the war Ratchet had himself fitted with a secondary storage unit. Then before we could do anything about it, the war happened, an' Ratchet got hurt in that Decepticon attack with that neutral settlement, remember it? Of course you do, that's when we met an' all. Then we joined the Autobots, and no one was producing sparklings anymore-"

"Wheeljack, to the point please," Prowl spoke up, tone more strained than agitated. Then again he had a lot of experience with mindless blather, considering Bluestreak's attachment to him.

"Oh, right," Wheeljack said, sidelights turning pink in embarrassment. "Well, anyway right before we left Cybertron, me and Ratchet had… a bit of an accident. We never got rid of the storage unit, but were usually pretty careful. But Ratchet was so upset that day because he'd just found out Dugout had been terminated-"

"Wheeljack!" Prowl and Optimus shouted simultaneously.

"We forgot to be careful and Ratchet ended up carrying," Wheeljack said sheepishly, shrinking further into his seat.

Optimus' optic glowed brightly as he scrutinized his chief engineer. "Ratchet was carrying and neither of you thought to inform me before the energy retrieval mission?"

"We were afraid of telling anyone. Sparkling production was being so heavily monitored, we thought we might be punished for unauthorized reproduction. And then we crashed and were in stasis for nearly fifty thousand vorns. At first we thought the spark had died, but Ratchet's frame proved… rather resilient. I guess it's the whole medic thing, they have to be pretty self sustaining considering it's their job to stay alive and keep everyone else alive," as he kept talking Wheeljack could see he was once more straining the patience of his superiors and got back on track.

"Ratchet's frame kept the spark alive, more than that, the spark aged, and split, four times. And those other four sparks aged as well and we found ourselves in a bit of a scrap pile. We tried to think of how to tell you, Optimus. We just didn't know how to explain it without getting in trouble. Then you approved of the Dinobot project, and… we took the opportunity. Well actually I took it and convinced Ratchet to go with it. And really, after four million years of carrying those sparks he was… kinda in pain. And desperate."

Wheeljack recalled those first couple months trying to get up the nerve to tell Optimus. Ratchet had suffered silently, shutting off most of the pain relays in his torso just to keep functioning. Ratchet would wake in the middle of the night, shaking with the agony as his systems reset themselves during recharge and opened pain sensors previously shut off. Despite that they still couldn't admit their mistakes; from never having the storage unit removed to using a project approved by Optimus to hide their indiscretions.

"I'm disappointed in you Wheeljack, and Ratchet as well. I thought the both of you had better judgment than this. And more trust in me," Optimus said, folding his hands together. "I wouldn't have faulted you two for wanting a family, nor even concealing Ratchet was carrying when he went on the energy retrieval mission. However, I'm afraid that punishment must be dealt for lying to me about your true intentions with the Dinobot project."

Wheeljack nodded. After staring at Optimus' desk throughout the lecture, he finally braved to look up. Optimus hadn't sounded angry, just resigned and disappointed. He couldn't help reflect on his earlier conversation with Ratchet back when their three eldest creations had nearly defected to the Decepticons. Perhaps Optimus was finally tired of letting them slide by for their actions.

"Before you make any decisions, just another word, sir?" Wheeljack asked, trying not to betray his anxiety.

Optimus gave a single nod for Wheeljack to continue. Wheeljack was suddenly seeing why some mechs disliked masks, you couldn't tell a fragging thing of what the other 'bot was feeling with them on.

"The Dinobots were all my idea, Ratchet didn't even know what I was planning when I suggested the project to you. He wanted to tell you, but I convinced him that it wasn't a good idea. And it wasn't even that hard with the distraction of having five sparks vying for room in his chassis an' all."

A pause from Optimus as he considered the request, before speaking, "Alright, Wheeljack. If you are willing to take full responsibility for this, then I suppose you will not argue with serving Ratchet's punishment with your own, rather than Ratchet serving it himself?"

"Yes, sir," Wheeljack said without hesitance. "Whatever it is, I'll serve it along with Ratchet's."

"I'm sorry I have to do this Wheeljack. I sentence you to two weeks in solitary. You will report to Prowl at six o' clock this evening to begin."

"Yes, sir." Like Ratchet would have served a week in solitary. He was the finest quality medic available and Wheeljack was pretty skilled at putting 'bots back together himself. Optimus could never spare both of them for a week. However, unless an emergency presented itself, Wheeljack was probably going to be stuck alone for the full two weeks.

"You are dismissed Wheeljack. And remember, six o' clock."

"Of course, Prime," Wheeljack said, standing and leaving the room as quickly as he could. He had four hours before he needed to report to Prowl. That should be enough time to explain to Ratchet about the meeting.

…Maybe he should just report to Prowl now.

* * *

No, I have no idea where babbling Wheeljack came from. Although he could give Bluestreak a run for his money. Expect the next chapter up sometime tomorrow.


	12. Revelations 3

Last chapter of this little storyline, then it's back to one-shots.

* * *

Ratchet looked up, relief filling his spark as Wheeljack entered the med bay. "Slag's frame is coming along nicely. With a few hours more work between the two of us, he'll be at full functional capacity again."

"That's great Ratch," Wheeljack said, sidelights flickering a cheerful blue as he walked over to Ratchet and the table holding Slag's frame. They easily settled into the familiar routine built from countless years of partnership, working in comfortable silence for the next few hours.

"We should call the other Dinobots in when we revive him," Ratchet suggested, mood lifted from earlier.

Wheeljack still hadn't managed to tell his partner that he would be serving two weeks in solitary. Ratchet was on enough of a guilt trip to have to hear about this. Then again, Wheeljack would have to report to Prowl in less than twenty minutes.

"Ah, Ratch? Before that, I need to tell you something," Wheeljack said, fuel tanks churning. He knew this would end in either a fight or the both of them feeling depressed and guilty, possibly both.

"What is it?" Ratchet asked in suspicion, focusing his attention on Wheeljack, optics narrowing. He knew that tone well, it was the 'I've done something and you're not gonna like it' voice. He'd heard it enough to easily identify it.

"I told Optimus about how we gave life to the Dinobots."

"How bad is it?" Ratchet asked with a wince.

"Two weeks in solitary for lying to him about the Dinobot project," Wheeljack answered, optic view guiltily sliding just to the left of Ratchet's helm.

"Each? How does Optimus expect to keep his chief medic and top engineer in solitary when-"

"Not each of us Ratchet," Wheeljack interrupted. "Just me."

"But we did the project jointly. How could he only punish you?" Ratchet asked, face scrunching in confusion.

"I told him that you weren't to blame, that I'd convinced you to go along with it. And that I would take whatever your punishment was alongside my own."

Ratchet punched Wheeljack in the shoulder, denting it. His optics were bright with anger. "Glitched idiot!" Ratchet hissed, clenched hands shaking. "I don't need you to protect me."

Wheeljack rubbed his injured shoulder, his own mood darkening. "Forgive me for watching out for you, it's kind of second nature."

"And that's the problem!" Ratchet shouted. "I can take care of myself thank you very much, Wheeljack. It's a little something called self-reliance, I'm quite capable of it."

"It's for the best, Ratchet. One of us needs to stay and watch out for the Dinobots, you know the others can't keep them in line."

"You weren't thinking about them and you know it. This was about you and me."

"How can you be so mad about me _keeping_ you from being punished."

"I don't want you suffering for my mistakes!" Ratchet screamed in frustration, slamming a fist on the medical table to keep from punching Wheeljack again.

"It's two weeks, Ratch," Wheeljack said gently, hating the pain and guilt pouring off his bonded partner. "It'll be over before you know it. I don't regret doing this for you, and you would have done the same for me if you'd talked to Prime instead."

The tension in Ratchet's frame slowly ebbed. He nodded reluctantly, not looking at Wheeljack. "It's unfair that you have to suffer for both of us."

They'd silently come to an understanding. It never took the pair long to make up from their fights. One moment they were arguing, the next they were at ease and laughing with each other once more. Wheeljack could count on one hand the number of times their arguments went on for longer than a few days.

"What's unfair is that I'm leaving you to explain all of this to the Dinobots," Wheeljack teased, edging towards the door.

Ratchet looked up sharply. "What? Oh, you did not tell me right before you had to leave, you slagger," Ratchet growled, stalking towards Wheeljack.

"'Friad I did, Ratch. I'll see you in a couple weeks." Wheeljack made a quick retreat, Ratchet shouting behind him.

"You sorry pile of cowardly scrap! You'll understand real punishment when you show your face to me again!"

"Can't wait!" Wheeljack shot back, nearly running to Prowl's office to avoid his mate's wrath.


	13. Unappreciated Artist Syndrome

Ratchet and Wheeljack sat together in the rec. room, playing a game of cards. Not even the tremors of dancing Dinobots, someone really should berate Jazz for that dancing simulation he had programmed, fazing them in the slightest.

"So, whose winning?" Wheeljack asked mildly, chair faced away from the action.

"Swoop, although it's no wonder. He is the lithest of his brothers," Ratchet replied. He didn't even need to look, he could hear the proud crowing of their youngest creation from his seat.

"Ya know, with the proper joint adjustments we could-"

"No. They're fine the way they are. The Dinobots' frames do not need to be tampered with. Remember our deal? You build the cerebral shells and add the modifications, I build the frames, and neither of us argues with the other. I let you have the flamethrowers, you are not touching my work."

"Touchy, touchy," Wheeljack grumbled. "You're starting to sound like Grapple."

Ratchet opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted before he could even speak.

"Ya think you could've built the Dinobots a little smaller, Wheeljack? I can feel them stomping around from the other side of the Ark," Inferno said, large frame settling in a seat beside the pair.

"Actually, I'm responsible for their frame's size, Inferno," Ratchet said.

Inferno blinked, before nodding. "Oh yeah, forgot you helped build 'em."

Ratchet sputtered, bristling. "'Helped?' I'm just as responsible for their creation as Wheeljack."

Inferno held his hands up in surrender, smiling nervously. "Sorry, my mistake. Ya know, I only know of how the Dinobots were built second hand, heard it all from Cliffjumper."

"Well, Cliffjumper never was the most informed mech in the ranks," Wheeljack replied, trying to diffuse the situation.

Ratchet snorted, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. "That's an understatement. He should've been named 'Conclusion-Jumper'."

It had always annoyed Ratchet how quickly others were to remember Wheeljack's hand in building the Dinobots, but forgetting Ratchet had been just as much a part of the process. If it hadn't been for him, the Dinobots wouldn't even have bodies. Wheeljack was good, but he didn't have nearly enough knowledge and experience to create an entire functioning frame, especially for the size the Dinobots had required.

The Dinobots did well, people clapped Wheeljack on the back saying he did a good job with the Dinobots, they screwed up, it was always the glares aimed at Wheeljack. Well, actually Ratchet could live without the glares. But some more acknowledgment of his equal part in the creation of the Dinobots would be appreciated.

Honestly, he was tempted to punch the next mech to forget he had built the Dinobots as well.

So it just figured the next time he heard those dreaded words placing responsibility of the Dinobot's existence only on Wheeljack was out on the battlefield.

He was crouched over Bluestreak, who'd nearly had his entire leg blown off by cluster bombs. Barely ten paces away was a brawling Optimus and Megatron. Ratchet really wondered about his luck. Or lack of it as the case may be. As well, Ratchet could see the towering frame of Sludge topple over onto two of the minibots as Devastator kicked him away.

"My compliments to your engineer for those giant bumbling imbeciles he built," Megatron snickered as he grappled with Optimus.

The arc welder Ratchet had been using was out of his hands and colliding with the back of Megatron's helm, denting it and producing a loud 'clang' that seemed to ring across the battlefield before Ratchet had even realized he'd thrown it.

He didn't know who was the most surprised to see Megatron collapse to his knees in a daze, trying to regain his bearings. Even Optimus was staring, speechless.

Megatron quickly took advantage of Optimus' seeming lack of attention, keeping low to the ground as he swung a leg out to trip up the Autobot leader. Optimus caught the action just in time, narrowly jumping back and avoiding the attack. Megatron was immediately on his feet, cannon charged and pointed at Ratchet before either Optimus or the medic could react.

Ratchet just narrowly avoided having half his torso blown off, trying to duck the shot. Instead the bright purple blast tore off part of his shoulder and he fell to the ground, clinging to the wound.

Before Megatron could attempt a second shot, Optimus had tackled him resuming their fight, carefully keeping himself between Megatron and Ratchet. For whose sake, not even he knew.

"Really, I didn't know you could be capable of such stupidity, Ratchet. Attacking _Megatron_. Are you insane?" Wheeljack grumbled as he repaired his partner's shoulder.

"I wasn't really thinking about it when I-" Ratchet started to mumble in embarrassment, before being interrupted.

"Obviously not."

"Are you kidding Wheeljack? That was _priceless_," Sideswipe crowed from the berth across Ratchet's as Hoist repaired his arm. "A once in a lifetime sight; Megatron downed by the Hatchet!" The red warrior couldn't help but cackle. "I'll remember that 'till the day I offline."

"Which'll be soon if you call me Hatchet again," Ratchet growled, glaring at Sideswipe.

"Actually, I'm curious for your actions today as well, Ratchet," Optimus said as he entered the med bay. He took a seat next to Ratchet's berth, waiting patiently for the now sheepish medic to offer an explanation.

"Honestly, Optimus, when I threw my arc welder at him, it was more of a reaction then a conscious action."

Optimus hefted a sigh. "Well, what caused such a response from you? You usually have more sense than to pick fights with Decepticons that you don't need to confront."

"When he was taunting you, he… forgot to credit me as well for building the Dinobots."

"You risked your life for that? Because your pride suffered a little damage?" Wheeljack shouted, outraged.

Ratchet glared right back at his mate. "No, I did not risk my life just because of Megatron's comment. Even our own teammates forget we built the Dinobots jointly. I didn't 'help' _you_ build them, and you definitely didn't build them alone or even mostly build them. We built them together, equally. And the next mech who forgets that gets the same treatment as Megatron did today," Ratchet fumed.

"Wow, didn't realize that was affecting you so much," Wheeljack responded, stiff with shock.

Ratchet slowly relaxed. "I promise, my temper and personal feelings won't interfere like they did today. In my right mind, I never would've done something so foolish."

Optimus' optics glittered and the amusement was clear in his voice. "Well, despite that, seeing Megatron brought down by a simple medical tool is a memory I shall always cherish, and I must thank you for that Ratchet."


	14. Big Daddy Wheeljack

I completely forgot about Father's Day and wrote this on the spot; got it out in like, an hour. Kinda makes you readers wonder why in the Pit it takes me so long to update, huh? Truth is, I'm lazy and I procrastinate. Besides, I doubt I'd still have stuff to write for this story if I posted new chapters every day.

* * *

If Wheeljack had checked his chronometer upon on-lining today, he would have known why the Dinobots had suddenly decided to corner him. Or why Sludge had picked him up and carried him out of the Ark like a sack of coals. He should have realized something was up when he'd checked his schedule for today and saw it cleared.

So when he was set down outside the Ark, in the dirt, with the Dinobots circled around him, expressions eager and with Ratchet standing not too far away looking smug, he was a little confused.

"Anyone care to explain what's going on?" Wheeljack asked, looking between each mech.

"It's June fifteenth," Ratchet replied.

Wheeljack waited for further explination, but received nothing. "Aaand?"

"Hint: It's your turn to be celebrated for, Daddy," Ratchet cracked with a grin.

Wheeljack turned the words over in his CPU, optics widening when he finally caught on. "Oooh, Father's Day; thought I forgot about something."

Ratchet shook his head over the hopeless situation. "Don't mind him, boys. He'd forget his own head if it wasn't bolted to his body."

"Us Dinobots got you Wheeljack gifts," Grimlock finally spoke up, presenting the engineer with a large metal box that filled Wheeljack's arms as he accepted it.

The poor engineer barely caught himself from falling over from the weight. It felt like the thing was full of rocks. Setting it down and opening the hatch at the top, Wheeljack discovered his guess wasn't too far off. He pulled out the large stone carving and carefully set it down to get a better look at it.

"Huh, it's me," Wheeljack quickly identified, smiling behind his mask as his helm lights flickered blue in pleasure. The large red stone was carved to look like him, it wasn't master piece work, but considering it was from Grimlock, who made it simply because he wanted to for his creator, Wheeljack couldn't be more pleased with it. "Thanks Grimlock, this'll look great in my lab," Wheeljack said as he turned back to his eldest creation.

_:Provided it doesn't get blown up:_ Ratchet commed to his mate.

_:I'll put it under that reinforced, blast proof plastic/glass stuff:_ Wheeljack replied.

"Me Swoop next, me Swoop next," Swoop crowed, clambering up and handing over a, thankfully, smaller metal box much like Grimlock's. Wheeljack could comfortably hold this one in both hands.

Opening it, Wheeljack again grinned. He pulled out a transformer sized mug. It was painted white, but with Cybertronian words also painted on it in gray, green, and red, all the colors of his paint job. Written out was _Happy Father's Day._

"Aw, Swoop, thank you. This'll be very useful for me," Wheeljack said, as he reached over and gave the pteranodon a pat on the arm. The youngling beamed at his creator before returning to his circle of brothers. Wheeljack set Swoop's gift on top of Grimlock's box to keep it elevated and hopefully safe from any large feet.

Snarl rose next, handing over a simple data pad to Wheeljack. Behind him, the other Dinobots let out snickers before he whirled on them and leveled an intense glare at the group.

Wheeljack paid no notice, booting up the pad and reading the small script of text written out on it.

_There is long darkness_

_Light fills my sight for first time_

_I see blue optics_

_I hear kind and loving voice_

_I know I am safe and home_

Wheeljack looked up at the stegosaur, touched. "Thank you Snarl, this is very beautiful. I can see you put a lot of thought into this."

The normally unexpressive mech gave his creator a rare smile before turning away and sitting down beside Sludge.

Slag, in a pre-emptive strike growled lowly at his brothers in warning before giving Wheeljack his gift, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as Wheeljack looked over the photo pad he had given him.

Wheeljack studied each picture obviously taken in the day-to-day Ark activities. Him working in his lab, him with one of the other Dinobots, even a few close moments shared between him and Ratchet, one just from yesterday where Ratchet had fallen into recharge on his shoulder while they relaxed in the common room. They were touching shots, and good besides. Clear, even, good lighting. "You have quite an optic for photography, Slag," Wheeljack complimented.

Slag humped, crossing his arms. "Not that hard, me Slag just have to wait for good moments and carry camera in subspace."

"Well still, this is lovely, and thank you."

Slag ducked his head in embarrassment before returning to his seat on the ground.

Sludge got up, bringing out his gift from subspace, a large, triple layer oil cake. "Me Sludge spent all night on this for all us to eat. But you get first piece."

Wheeljack grinned, the cake the brontosaur had made Ratchet for Mother's Day had been delicious. He could only expect the same of today. "Considering your knack for food, Sludge, I bet it'll be the best oil cake I've ever had," Wheeljack replied as he disconnected his mask from his face.

--

"So, was it a good Father's Day?" Ratchet asked as he lay back with Wheeljack on their shared berth.

"The best. I could get used to these Earth holidays. They certainly have a good idea, celebrating creators for raising good young. And ya know, we do. Even if the Dinobots are a little rough around the edges, they're good mechs. I don't think we could've asked for better with them," Wheeljack said fondly, settling on his side, chassis to chassis with Ratchet.

"Yeah," Ratchet said with a nod. "They are good mechs. They had a bad start, a few bad starts, but I think they're starting to adjust."

"And their gifts were all pretty thoughtful," Wheeljack added, spark warming at the thought of the gifts he'd received.

He froze as Ratchet rolled over, leaning on his elbows above Wheeljack with optics glowing indigo and a devious smile on his lips. "So 'Daddy', ready for my gift?" Ratchet purred as he leaned in close to his spark mate.

Wheeljack's engine revved in answer as his optics changed to match hue with his mate's. And he _really _loved Earth's holidays.

* * *

Just as a note, I had the ending planned before I even started on the first sentence of this chapter. My smutty mind, let me show it to you.


End file.
